𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 | A Top Gun Fanfiction

Chapter 12: 𝘈 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘧-𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘚𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵

"Tower to Archer 1, over."

In front of me, I can see Dash's head turn as he replies, "Dash piloting Archer 1 to tower, over."

"For today's match, Maverick and Goose will be your wingmen, copy?"

My stomach gives a tiny jump, like an excited toddler bouncing up and down. The few times I've been in the air, I've only worked with Maverick and Goose twice. Knowing they've got my back, when my own pilot would sit back and let me fall to my death while laughing, gives me just enough confidence to survive each flight practice. The yearning to wrestle Dash out of my rightful spot never fades. It's always burning in the back of my mind, coiled up and waiting to strike when I lose my cool. Dash's sexist comments and overall disagreeable, brutish personality do little to help our situation. His attitude towards me only seems to worsen each day, tipping a little lower. The longer I'm stuck behind him, reading radars and eyeing the skies like a hawk, fighting to maintain my pilot state of mind even when my hands can't manage the controls, the clearer it is that anytime now, one of us is going to snap and something terrible will follow.

A fight maybe?

As dangerous as it is for a girl to get physical with a guy, due to their biologically enhanced bone structure and endurance, my stubborn streak can't help but flare up at the anticipation of a good old back alley fist fight.

I'd finally get my chance to punch the living daylights out of Dash.

But for now, I'm trapped in the back of the Archer 1 with Dingus manning the jet. I blow out a steam of hot air and settle against my chair. The straps dig into my chest, pressing through my flight suit and into my sensitive, sweat soaked skin. Ugh, I moan internally, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck awkwardly with my helmet restricting any natural movement, I can't wait to touch down and take a shower.

Head in the game, Stirrups! Vixen sings. We've got a Commander to take down.

Wait - WHAT?!

Vixen clucks her tongue. Really, girl, pay attention! Stop daydreaming about hot showers!

Hot showers! I retort. No way. I'm roasting alive. When I get into the locker rooms, I'm taking an ice cold shower.

Vixen laughs. Alright, enough about showers. Focus!

Right, I roll my eyes just as the radars flash by my lap. I gently prod Vixen to the back of my mind and follow her orders, focusing on the screen I hold in both hands and the approaching dot on our eight. The dot pulses, racing after us. I sit up straighter and lean forward, "Dash, we've got someone on our tail. Eight O'clock."

"That's just us, Stirrups, hold your fire."

Maverick.

I grin behind my mask. "Why didn't you say something, you idiot?"

"I'm entitled to my silence."

"Alright shut up you two, we're not here to flirt, we're here to fly," Dash snaps. "Mav, keep an eye on our tail. We're up against Viper. He's the best of the best -"

"And I'm the rising best of the best, so no need to worry," Maverick cuts in, pride lacing his pinched, filtered voice. I choke back a scoffing laugh. He doesn't realize it, or perhaps he does but doesn't give a shit, but he sounds ridiculous; nasally intercom voice and arrogant spirit? It's an unflattering combo. "Plus, we've got Goose and Stirrups. I'd say we're even with Ol' Viper if it weren't for you, Dash. It takes more than speed to win something."